brainxplosion

I just cried over a hallmark e-card.
I remind myself of the overemotional crying-about-commercials mafia boss Robert DeNiro played in Analyze This!

I took this quiz several times because I couldn't make up my mind on one question:

1. In your group of friends, you are:
• The popular one
• The outspoken one
• The weird one
• The intense one
• The classy one
• The comforting one

I think that I could be described as the intensely weird outspoken comforting one. Here are the FASCINATING results of my research.
With outspoken, I get:

You Are Mexican Food

Spicy yet dependable. You pull punches, but people still love you.

With weird, I get

You Are Japanese Food

Strange yet delicious. Contrary to popular belief, you're not always eaten raw.

With intense, I get

You Are Chinese Food

Exotic yet ordinary. People think they've had enough of you, but they're back for more in an hour.

With comforting, I get

You Are Italian Food

Comforting yet overwhelming. People love you, but sometimes you're just too much.

My conclusion is that I must be SO weird, intense, outspoken, and comforting, that the test that would put me in the right food category is not yet in existence. I am dependable, but not spicy (hot - yes, spicy - ehhh, no). I am neither exotic nor ordinary (yet not like anybody or everybody else). I definitely am comforting, and will bite my lips and abstain from comments about 'overwhelming'. I am strange (BIG surprise), but have never thought of myself as 'delicious'.

I am an Ethnic Food Whore. Cheeseburger, anyone?


PS: Thanks to Jessica for the link to the test!

Today's highlights in bulletpoitns:

• My teacher made a group of us (me included) stand up behind our seats for forgetting to bring a folder to class (we didn't actually use it - bringing it was, I guess, the point of it?). This woman is supposed to teach us about elementary school teaching methods. Oy, would you ever have crying children and upset parents to deal with after that.
• The same teacher then went on to make a racist remark about people from Asia. I'm not always politically correct blahblahblah, but as a teacher you REALLY need to make an effort, no matter whether the group in front of you is racially diverse or not.
• A letter came from my bank with a friendly reminder to IMMEDIATELY pay the outstanding balance of my overdraft protection. I have over 1,000.- dollars in that account. It's not overdrawn. I want to sleep, not call the bank or, worse yet, stand in line there!
• I went to the container store (it's on the way home). It's beautiful and it smells like plastic. The bathrooms had obnoxiously colored corian countertops that were also very mod-container-store-ish. I bought a gift for my sister.
• This is the week that D. might lose his job. Actually, let's just call this the first week that he is at risk in earnest. I'm sure there'll be more to follow (unless, of course, he loses his job this week). I'm in a zen-ish place about it. As a matter of fact, there are too many things already on my mind - I just have no capacity to care about this.
• Sleep is good, I seem to remember from the time when I got enough, back when I was 8.
  

My life is like a rollercoaster these days.
There are thrills, and there certainly is a lot of falling.



















I had such a witty idea for a post, but honesty prevailed.
My life has not been fun. I drag myself off to school every day where I sit in lengthy lectures and get stressed out by the sheer volume of expectations put to me. When I get home, I cannot work on any of the assignments because I am petrified and overwhelmed. Thus, I procrastinate until the last second and fall into bed exhausted, only to get up a few hours later, to take my spot in the line that is the freeway that bears me back to class, stress, and the fear of failure.
I have lately also suffered a familiar insecurity. A small voice in my mind tries to convince me that I am unloved.* I know that's not true, but at times the feeling of rejection is too keen, too real to close my heart from it, and I hurt.
Sure, the rational Sonja tells me that if someone doesn't like me, it is their loss for not getting to know me. She says that I'm a big enough person to overlook it and be friendly to them anyways. I can't always listen to her.

More than anything else, I need sleep and time to remember that I am an actual, life person with interests other than homework and napping.

There has been one thing I have thoroughly enjoyed. Recently, I borrowed from the library a book on CD, so I'd have something to distract me from road rage on my commute. I have listened and started to really love this book and its heroine.
Jane Eyre is such a rich and funny and tragic story.










The Bronte sisters kick it really old school.


* In no way am I getting this vibe from my husband. He has, however, been just as stressed out as I have with looking for a job, commuting, and dealing with being overworked.

... not to be so forgetful.

Signs of stress very recently observed in my life:
1. On Friday, I made D. turn the car around (we carpool sometimes) because I had forgotten to brush my teeth.
2. Yesterday, I got out of the shower and started drying off when I realized that my hair was still covered in shampoo. Never in my life has this ever happened to me. Ever.
3. Today, I grabbed a bunch of little things I sometimes forget when we left the house for church. Halfway there, I noticed that while I had my cell phone and my keys (why did I bring my keys? D. was driving!) and the books I borrowed from a friend, I'd left my purse at home.
4. I got a bottle of water with lunch so that I could have something to drink on my trek through the grocery stores (yes, I drove without a license and paid with D.'s debit card). I was already sitting in the car when I realized that my water was still inside.





This can only get better, I hope. If not, I might just forget about forgetting.

Last night, D. and I had dinner with friends who also happen to pastor our church. It was a quiet, fun evening that included Chinese takeout (which I had NEVER had before, believe it or not), vanilla bean ice cream, crazy stories, wild laughter and lots of encouragement and listening. In short, it was wonderful.
On the way home in the car I was alone, because we'd taken two cars (because I missed the train). I listened to the radio, and before long switched to the oldies station. I hadn't done that in a long time, because I either listen to NPR, Dr. Laura, or CDs. The songs all seemed bittersweet and filled with longing, unrequited love, and broken hearts. They reminded me of certain formative years in my life when I felt incomplete when I wasn't nursing either a crush or a broken heart. Here are some of the highlights of those years:
1. T. - 2 out of 3: tall and dark, not handsome
I met this guy when I was three, we were preschool sweethearts. Our moms were friends and we lived in the same appartment building. When I was 5, we moved and I didn't see him again until I was probably about 16. He still set my heart aflutter, and we went on an afternoon date to a local indoor pool. I was excited, so I talked incessantly. I don't know if that turned him off, but the call to go out again never came, and we officially remained "old friends from way back when." I ran into him soon after the swimming date. We were both with our groups of friends at an open air concert of the local radio station. I saw the backstreet boys live (they were only one of many bands playing, and I was uninterested and spent their stage time making fun of the swooning preteens). T. and his friends were rather drunk and smoking pot, which un-broke my heart pretty quickly.
2. A. - 1 out of 3: tall, neither dark nor handsome
Man, was I head over heels for this boy! He was older than I was, and what I thought were signs of his affection and romantic interest in me was probably just him being nice to a little girl. I borrowed his sweater and slept in it and on it, smelling it, just like a lovesick teenager in an 80s movie. I eventually returned the sweater. The crush only faded when another one replaced it.
3. F. - 2 out of 3: dark and handsome, but short - shorter than me, as a matter of fact!
I met F. in my dancing classes. I always thought he was kinda cool, and on the Saturday night socials at the dancing school (we're talking ballroom here, like Richard Gere and JLo in that VERY BAD movie "Shall we Dance") we danced a few times each week. Then, one weekend, only a few of our friends had shown up and we danced every single dance we knew how all night. In between, I'd sit in his lap (it was crowded and seats were hard to come by). Turns out he was just dancing, while I was melting for him on the inside. I got over it, but it took time and it only happened because my friend talked me into being angry about being used by him that night. I love that friend. She's a good one.
4. M. - 0 out of 3: a selfish arse
Don't want to talk about it. I feel sorry for him, because he is an empty person who needs a new arm candy every few months to make him feel as though he is alive.

I was attracted to the unattainable. The boys that liked me usually only interested me for about 4 weeks. As I said, my life felt incomplete if I didn't fancy myself in love or heartbroken. Heartbreak worked for me! I'm glad I managed to move on from there. My husband is different from the crushes I had in so many ways that I'd have a hard time counting. I know that he loves me for more than just my cuteness or cleavage. He calls me on it when I start turning into ranting poophead woman (a superhero in her own right; nobody does negativity and unfairness like her). He encourages me to be me in more meaningful ways, and without all the BS that belongs to life so often. He's the missing piece to the jigsaw puzzle that's me. Heartbreak not required.


*Serena - which movie?

I SOLVED THE BIG PROFILE PICTURE PROBLEM!!!!
Flickr let me download my own picture in a smaller size. Now I have the profile picture that I really wanted but couldn't get because blogger doesn't take pictures that are bigger than 50 MB.

I feel like I beat the system. Yeah for me!

update:
I do enjoy this picture, so I figured I'd at least post it. I give you the disturbed hausfrau:

I found it - my new profile picture!

A long time ago, I promised to tell all y'all the story of D.'s and my trip to Bellagio when we were in Italy with the fam. Even though interest has been low (nonexistent?), I'm telling the story. It makes me feel powerful. Mwhahahahaha!
This is Bellagio:
It's beautiful, and small, and if you want to drive around in it, you're screwed because the streets are about as wide as my hips. Okay, so maybe they're a little wider. "I'm trying to sprinkle a little fairy dust here!" (Serena, guess that line!)
At any rate, no driving in the downtown. This is okay because the city is quite small. Tiny, one could say.

Early-ish one morning, D. and I packed our duffle and got on a bus. The street was quite narrow and wound its way along the lake, so the drive was really fun. Overeager as usual, we got off the bus a tad bit early and had to walk a couple of blocks (= kinda far) to the car rental place, where the smart we had requested was waiting for us.
This is what happens when Mercedes and Swatch make a car together: Note that there is room for exactly two people and one duffel bag. Perfect!
Off we went down the valley we were staying in, then up the next valley over to Lake Como. All went well, excepting three full circles on a roundabout when we couldn't figure out which way to go and a short drive down a bus lane in downtown Como where A COP SAW US AND TOTALLY DIDN'T EVEN DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT (there was a center divider and he was going the other way, so that might have deterred him). We picked a gorgeous route along the mountains for the last 50 km of the trip. The sun was shining, the view was beautiful, and the towns were minuscule and far away from each other. Unfortunately, other cars were on the same road as we were, and those Italians just want to go, go, go already!!! and they honk at you if you're not at breakneck speed. This circumstance became less and less troubling to us when the gas in the tank got lower and lower and there was NOT A SINGLE GAS STATION AROUND. We were afraid, we rolled down hills in 'neutral', and we tried not to think about what the heck would happen to us if our rental car ran out of gas on a more or less deserted road in a country in which we neither spoke nor understood the language (gasoline = benzin in Italian, just FYI). Suffice it to say that we coasted into Bellagio on our last drop of benzin. We splurged on a hotel on the "outskirts" of "town", with a view of the East side of the lake. It was quiet and beautiful and sunny in the morning. There was a pool and a breakfast buffet like no other. THERE WAS A BATHTUB!* We ate and slept and, I'm ashamed to say, watched TV because THEY HAD GERMAN TV STATIONS and I watched the soap I was into in high school and laughed and laughed because it is just SO IMMENSELY INSIPID.
We walked around in the town, ate dinner (and fed the fish) on a terrace over the lake, walked to "the point" - the crotch of the lake's two legs - took a boat trip to a villa with some wicked cool gardens and ate GELATO TILL THE COWS CAME HOME. Except the cows didn't come home, so we never really stopped. Then we drove back in the pouring rain, and if you can think of anything that will make a winding, narrow mountain road with speeding, impatient, honking Italians on it more fun, it would be rain, wouldn't it. I also insisted on driving (I'd never driven a smart, after all), so there were some intense moments stuffed right into that afternoon. The rain stopped, of course, as soon as the worst stretch of road was over. Good times!

Here now is the crazy bird anecdote: We were sitting on a bench by the harbor eating panini. I was done, so I turned to throw my trash in the conveniently-close-to-the-bench located receptacle. When I turned back to face D., there was a sparrow (captain james sparrow?) hovering midair, like a hummingbird, RIGHT NEXT TO HIS FACE. I could swear that schizo bird was trying to bite D.'s panini. This was shocking, but nonetheless sort of humorous (it wasn't going for my food, so we were okay). Then, D. turned to face me and suddenly saw that bird. He was terrified. I had to be discreet while cracking up, because the poor guy almost had a heart attack... It was pretty hilarious though, on the whole, and afterwards, when we were back in our room and safe from birds.

*Remember that we were camping on a not-quite-all-that clean campground. Bathtub after campground showers that never stay at the right water temperature = veeeeery exciting!

right now, i could be asleep, but i'm not.
staying up late has become my new "thing" (i blame harry potter).
it doesn't agree with my old "thing", which is waking up early and full of energy for the new day.
har, har.

On Tuesday, I went walking through the winding old streets by the pier and along the beach, watching surfers sit on their boards in anticipation, annoying sea gulls with my presence, and blissfully revelling in the sunlit, quiet beach. THE CHILDREN ARE BACK IN SCHOOL, AND THERE IS PEACE!
I think that this will be the last time (at least for a while) that I can wholeheartedly enjoy back-to-school day. Next year, I'll be one of the nervous first-year teachers throwing up in the bushes around the parking lot before going in to greet MY FIRST CLASS. A little while down the road, I'll be the teary mother who has to let her baby go to KINDERGARTEN ALL DAY WITHOUT ME.

There was this one moment during my walk, when I actually stopped myself to listen. Sure, there was the distant humming of the freeway, but I heard no cars, no people, no TVs or radios. It was magical. Instead, I could hear some crickets playing their integrated violins, some bumblebees buzzing about, the ocean waves crashing onto the beach, and startled lizards wiggling around in the dry grass. Glorious. I felt such peace.

Then today all hell broke loose. But I'll save that for another post.
Peace!

I am now the proud owner of a FLICKR account. I uploaded some miscellaneous vaction pictures today. Enjoy!

I was thinking about just how screwed I'd be if there was a flood out here. I decided to prepare. I believe that the least we can all do (as individuals and as a country) is to learn from what's happened. Also, I admit that I've gone long enough completely ignoring the San Andreas Fault and all his little (and bigger) friends in the area. I'm also too close to the coast not to think about flood protection. And I will see a lawyer to make my will, so help me.
Morbid? Yes. Safe? Better than sorry.

This is a list of things you can do that I found on Flylady's Website:

11 Points to Preparedness for Evacuation

1. PEOPLE: Have a plan for getting out of the house and make sure everyone knows it. Have an emergency bag of food and water for your family. Include wholesome snacks and treats for the children: dried fruit, nuts, peanut butter, crackers and granola bars.

2. PETS: Keep pet carriers and leashes readily available to lead pets to safety. Also take pet food with you.

3. PICTURES: Keep negatives or CDs of pictures in a lock box or at a family member's home. Have picture albums in one place ready to grab and go at a moments notice.

4. PAPERS: Have all your important papers in a lock box at a bank and only keep copies at the house. This keeps you from panicking. If you have them at home then put them in a folder that you can easily grab if you have to move fast. Color code it so you can find it!

5. PRESCRIPTIONS: Take your medications with you. Don't forget the ones that have to be refrigerated like insulin. Have small ice chest and cold packs readily accessible to pack and go. If you have babies; remember their formula or medications.

6. PURSES and PETRO: This is where you keep your identification, credit cards and cash. Keep a stash of cash for emergencies and grab it. You may not be able to use an ATM in the event of a power outage. Make sure your car always has a half a tank of gas.

7. PROPER CLOTHES and COMFORT ITEMS: According to the weather conditions; gather up a change of clothes along with outer clothing: coats, rain gear, boots, gloves and hats. If you have babies remember diapers. Remember to grab your children's favorite blanket, stuffed animal or toy. A game or a deck of cards could keep them occupied and calm too.

8. PLANNER/CALENDAR: These documents have all the information you will need from phone numbers, insurance numbers and important dates. They are small and filled with things you don't have to try to remember.

9. PERSONAL PROTECTION: Many of us still have that time of the month. Be sure and grab a box of your preferred protection. It may be hard to find if you have been evacuated. Stress can cause our bodies to do strange things too. So be prepared. Take medication for cramps too.

10. PHONES and RADIOS: Many of us have cell phones now. Always keep them charged up and have a charger in the car or an extra battery. They may not work in the event of power outages, but then they might. Know which local radio station has emergency bulletins. Keep your battery powered radio tuned to that local station and have plenty of batteries for it.

11. PATIENCE: This is one of the most important things to pack. Keep it inside of you so that you have a clear calm head. Having your P's to Preparedness list guiding you will keep you patient. In the event of an evacuation there will be lots of displaced people. Being patient will make things less stressful. Your children need to see you calm and collected. This will help keep them calm too.

ON A COMPLETELY UNRELATED NOTE: I spent all day yesterday reading the most recent Harry Potter book. Turns out that the escape was almost as bad as reality after all. I will post more about this soon.

I have temporarily retired from reality. I will be in bed with Harry Potter until further notice.

I was reading Jg Stephan's blog, and he has a link to a very interesting, albeit German article.
I am ashamed of what politicians in Germany are doing (or rather, not doing) and saying.
The basic sentiment seems to be that America is a rich enough country to help itself - they don't need donations from Europe, do they?!
One minister, Juergen Trittin, openly made the connection between global warming and the hurricane (possible, yet not at all proven, and SUCH BAD TIMING), thereby coldly shrugging off any obligations to help. IT JUST MAKES ME SO MAD!
Forgive us - there's elections coming up in Germany. We're not US-bashing because we mean it. We're just doing it to get votes. ARGH!

I'll be more eloquent when I've calmed down a little. Bear with me here.

Read this article! My mind is boggled.
I believe that we all have this corner of our brain that's in charge of not letting us get too down, so if something bad happens, that little brain corner tells us that THAT THING could never happen to us. My brain corner said to me that since I didn't live in Florida, I wouldn't have to endure hurricanes. (The same brain corner blocks out any knowledge of the frequency of earthquakes in these here parts.)

I've been thinking about catastrophes in general and, of course, Hurricane Katrina specifically.
First off, I have to get off my chest that as soon as I heard that another hurricane was hitting Florida, I smugly thought "Well, the poeple who live there made that choice knowing that Florida gets hurricanes every year." When I heard that New Orleans would be next in the line for the storm, I thought, still quite smugly "Well, they had to build a city below sea level. They knew that that wasn't really such a smart idea."
Friends, I'm no longer feeling smug. I'm sorry and I hurt and my imagination fails me. I cannot picture what it must be like right now, to fight over food in the Superdome, or to sit on your roof in the middle of the smelly flood, waiting for someone to rescue you, wondering about your neighbors, your family.
Let me say that I don't have cable or a satellite dish. The antenna (rabbit ears) I have doesn't work in the new apartment, so I haven't seen any of the hurricane and/or the aftermath covered on TV. I have listened to the radio (NPR) and I've read articles and seen pictures on the web.
None of it was real to me until yesterday morning, when I heard a blurb on the radio from a woman who said that she had $80.00 cash, but the rest of her money was in a bank. She didn't know if she'd still have a job after the city would be cleaned up, and her son didn't understand what was going on. Moved to tears, she told the reporter that her child was afraid and sad and homesick, and there was nothing she could do. AND WE ARE WORRIED ABOUT GAS PRICES???
This morning I read about brawls and fires and looting. I saw pictures of a body floating in the street, next to trash and debris. I read about a truck with provisions for a hospital (food, water, medicine) being held at gunpoint by hungry, desparate people.
Some thoughts I have:

• People who had the money left the city while they still could. Lots of the people who are now stuck in the city are non-rich. Our ridiculous social strata are held up, even in such are large-scale disaster.
• So much help seems to be poring into New Orleans and other regions affected, but the situation is still so critical, and the help will be too late for so many.
• Venezuela has promised us humanitarian aide. This moved me to tears. South America helping North America - it's powerful.
  
• I'm sitting here in California, my belly full, my hair washed, my soft bed made, my closet full, my husband (though at work at the moment) with me, my family safe and just a phonecall away. There's a store for (more or less) whatever I want - I only have to drive there and swipe my credit card. It's bizarre.

Disasters are easily watched from afar, even though just now it doesn't feel easy to me. My hands are itching to do something practical, but realistically, I can only donate money. Still, we will forget about this soon. The rebuilding efforst will attract less and less attention as time progresses, and with the next catastrophe just around the corner (e.g. people trampled in a Stampede for fear of a suicide bomber in their midst in Iraq yesterday), and will capture our attention and shock. The shock itself will wear off until only a dull feeling of "bad things happen sometimes" will remain. Our brains will shut it away, file it under "bad stuff that didn't affect us, thank God" and that'll be it.
It's healthy to grieve, then move on, but by God, it makes me feel callused.